Smoke
A blind light crashes
through bar windows.
Since they began to talk
her breasts had moved
to a small apartment in his head.
The smoke from her cigarette
shaped words
into sensuous motes.
He imagines her lungs.
They are green-leaf not black.
Inside the bronchi and alveolar
sylph's teasingly beckon
out of a spongy foliage.
Votive clouds lather red lips.
Words flare dark clefts of desire.
Throats assume vapory feelers
inside a filtering breath.
He needs her addictively,
a blood craving
that seeks her as an inhalation.
There’s a strung-out intimacy
between them.
Eye’s smother, and blur
as they absorb each other.
Soon they will meet
upon an in-between world
where each visual breath
forms fumy erotic dreams.
Meanwhile, a midday daze
permeates their smolder
as they sightlessly
light another.
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2019
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